sadism

It was a late night. Rather, a whole night - Even though his father had taken to ceasing his room, there would be no sleeping - But instead, planning.

He stood up, then, after deeming the conversation with the sad man at the bench completely useless. Turning, he made for the backrooms, he never knew exactly what time it was, but before knowledge of the reality around him returned, he found himself waking up, atop 'his' bed -It should be noted that, ofcourse, the bed wasn't at all his, but rather a rented bed within a rented room, within the rented accommodation of the tavern.

This time, his head ached even more - Most likely because of the fact that this time, he hadnt drank some infused water, but instead - Beer. He was forced to drink it, that much he remembered. Oh how he hated beer, how he loathed any form of alcohol. The drunkards' drink, the one that clouded your mind, made you slip. Atleast he knew what time it was, though he didn’t know where he was for a moment - He woke up in a bale of hay, with thin strands of grass in his mouth, and dust on his face.

His head ached, though his eyes were shut, and his mind half at rest. Opening his eyes, he could see above him, a man, but the morning light was harassing his vision, and his face was unclear - After a brief moment of awkwardness, he made out the man's face. A grim face, with gaunt features, and a single, wide, scar running from the man's right eye, all the way to the center of his chin. Whatever caused that must've hit him hard, he thought, but didn’t say; For some reason this face seemed familiar to him.